


I Can't Tell You

by Dark_and_night



Category: The Boy (2016 Bell)
Genre: One Shot, Other, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 13:16:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21458656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_and_night/pseuds/Dark_and_night
Summary: The mansion is so big, so scary, and Brahms feels so alone.
Relationships: Brahms Heelshire/Reader, Brahms Heelshire/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 88





	I Can't Tell You

The house was big, and empty, and unforgiving. Every tick and tock of every clock resonated throughout the house, the empty sounds echoing. There were so many clocks, so many tics, so many tocs. So many sounds and creaks and scratches. All because Brahms was alone. Even just one other person made a world of difference.  


At least when there was one other person, music might be playing, footsteps might echo throughout the house, maybe even a voice.  


But there was no one here, because everyone had left Brahms. He took off his mask, biting his thumb nail nervously. You hadn’t truly left him; you had just gone to get groceries. But he always had a fear you wouldn’t come back. The first few times you had gone off to get groceries, Brahms had checked every place in the house he knew money was kept, scared that you had taken his parent’s money and run.  


As you continued to get groceries every other week, Brahms finally stopped checking the money, but the panic was still there every time you left.  


Brahms was sitting by the front door, curled up on the floor. He ran his hands through his hair, the panic swelling in his chest. He knew it was unfounded, and he’d hoped he’d just get over it, but the fear never ebbed.  


Brahms tried to distract himself by counting the number of shapes in the rug when he finally heard the sound of the cab pull up. He quickly fastened his mask back on his face and stood, walking away from the door so it wouldn’t be obvious that he was waiting for you.  


You walked in the door, bags of groceries in hand. You were humming to yourself, refreshed after getting to see people for the first time in a couple weeks. You were never overly social, but still, a little chat with the cashier and a cab driver was always a nice little chance of pace.  


As you kicked off your shoes, Brahms walked in from the living room. You smiled at the sight of him.  


“Hey you.” You grinned as you handed him a couple of the bags. “How was your night?”  


“Fine.” Brahms mumbled, walking the groceries to the kitchen.  


Tilting your head at his strange attitude, you followed, carrying the bags you had. “What’s wrong?” You asked as the two of you started putting everything away.  


Brahms knew that there was nothing wrong. You had come back to him. If panic was fire, burning and red, then the relief of seeing you home was water, cool and soothing, spreading through his body and calming him down. The painful thud of the fiery panic was still there, but the longer he saw your face, the more it would heal.  


“I can’t tell you my feelings, for I fear that you’ll hate me.” Brahms whispered, watching you as you put away the food without a care in the world.  


You blinked and looked up at him. “That’s not possible.”  


“It’s not?” Brahms asked.  


Taking his hand, you gently kissed his knuckles. “Anything that’s wrong, we’ll work through it together.”  


Brahms smiled from behind his mask, squeezing your warm hand in his. Maybe he could tell you how he felt. Maybe it would all be okay, because the two of you were a team now.


End file.
